


berserker

by LuckyMagicBelle



Series: Belle's Dream SMP Oneshots and Drabbles [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Violence, Dream Smp, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Technoblade is basically a berserker, Time Travel, TommyInnit is there but never actually talks, seriously there is a lot of blood in this but no graphic descriptions of injury, why do the character tags have their real names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyMagicBelle/pseuds/LuckyMagicBelle
Summary: Technoblade travels back in time.
Series: Belle's Dream SMP Oneshots and Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155128
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	berserker

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings: Blood, Violence, Foul Language**

“You're sure this’ll work.”

Karl blinked, looking up at Technoblade. “I. . . yeah. Yeah. Definitely.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a one-way trip though. Not. . . not like the portal I use.”

Technoblade snorted. “I wouldn’t come back to this shit timeline even if I could.” Karl let out a short laugh, born more from surprise than humor. 

“I wouldn’t either,” he admitted. Pushing himself to his feet, he motioned towards the machine at the center of the room. “If you could. . .?”

Technoblade obliged, dropping the remains of his cape on the floor and sliding into the chair. He had to perform an awkward wiggle movement to fit his head into the box. 

Karl’s voice sounded from outside, muffled. “Stay still.” Technoblade forced himself not to flinch at the sound of glass shattering above him. Wispy smoke brushed against his face and he shut his eyes, unable to see anything through the metal walls his head was enclosed in.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Karl said. Technoblade strained his ears for the sound of footsteps, catching them as they circled to the back of the chair. “Technoblade?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t mess this up.” 

“I won’t,” he promised, uncharacteristically earnest. Now was not the time for sarcasm. 

“Good.” Karl’s voice shook a little. There was a pause, then the sound of switches flipping. “This. . . this is gonna hurt.”

Technoblade didn’t have any time to reply, because the world was awash in white and red and _painpainpain_ \--

He blacked out.

* * *

He came to screaming, choking on air, his nails digging into his scalp and his fingers tangled in braided hair. Hundreds of voices screamed with him, in worry and fear and anger, demanding answers. They echoed in his head, previously so silent, and he nearly cried from the relief of hearing his Chat for the first time in months. 

He gradually noticed that his hand was clenched around the hard wood of a crossbow. The trigger was digging into his skull, and the string had hooked around the sharp points of his golden crown and yanked it askew. Gritting his teeth, he bit down on the next scream and forced it out as a strangled groan, and when the pain had dulled to a sharp ache he slowly straightened up.

Tubbo was staring at him, wide-eyed with terror and concern, a hand raised as though to touch him. He was trapped inside a yellow concrete box. 

Technoblade looked at his crossbow. There was a rocket loaded in it.

“The fuck was that?” A harsh voice demanded from his left. He turned towards it, grimacing as the smell of copper filled his nostrils and something warm trickled down his lip. Jschlatt glared back at him, eyes tinged with madness. A quick survey of the scene (and oh did that make his head _pound_ ) confirmed what he already knew.

He was back at the Festival.

 _"Technoblade,_ ” Schlatt snapped.

Well then. “Fuck this,” he croaked, raised the crossbow, and shot the dictator point-blank in the face. 

“WHAT THE _FUCK!_ ” Quackity screeched from somewhere to his right. Technoblade ignored him, pushing past the screaming around and inside his head and focusing solely on Tubbo. He broke down the concrete, grabbed the kid and promptly jumped into the waterfall. One trident-thrust later, he was standing in front of a stunned TommyInnit. 

He shoved Tubbo at the two exiles. “Go,” he snapped. “I’ll hold ‘em off.”

Wilbur was grinning proudly. Technoblade ignored the nausea roiling in his stomach at the expression, withdrawing another rocket-loaded crossbow from his inventory. Tubbo stared at him.

“Technoblade. . .”

Technoblade bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty smile. “Haven’t you heard my catchphrase-- Technoblade never dies? I’ll be fine. Go.”

“Come on,” Wilbur said as Technoblade fired the rocket and chaos erupted in the audience below. Chat went wild with bloodlust, their concern forgotten in favor of murderous excitement. The three exiles ran, and Technoblade covered their escape from his perch on the roof. When the citizens of Manberg had gotten too close for him to safely use rockets, he dropped a water bucket and thrust his trident forward, landing between the exiles and their pursuers. Drawing his sword, he slashed at Purpled, forcing him to jump back. His blood burned with energy as he crossed blades with someone for the first time in weeks, and the voices roared in his head, a cacophonous chant of _blood_. Technoblade roared with them and let go, his vision turning scarlet as the bloodlust dragged him under.

**_B̵̨̯̮͇̤͌͛͗̉̿L̦̱̃̑̾͂O̸̡͔͙̩̾̋̇̄̇͝Ő͉̖̭̳̼͇̐̏̊̃Ḑ̼̝̲̩̖̣͖͗̀͋ ͕͈̱̯͐F̡̱͙͑̏O͓̻̜̍͘͝Ŗ͙̹̽̃̅̔̍ ̨̦̝̹͛̂̿̕T̨̗̻͑̇͜H̡̨̬̦͖̏̇͌̉͘͜Ē̴̛̪͖̉̍̅͘ ̶̡̜̳̰̔̈́̓́͐̕͏B̩̪̥̻̭̌̄̽L̵̦͓͍̾̌͝Ọ̵̲͖̠̞̲Ǫ͉̜͎̤̎̿̎̈͢D͖̳͚̭͐̆̃̀̕͟ ͇̼͙̝̘͙͑͗͞G̴̦͇͎̐̔̐́͗̀͟O̞͙͌͗͐̊͡͞D͓̗̞̣́̉̓̋͛͢!̴̲̺̬͖̐_ **

He woke in the middle of an empty battlefield. 

Red liquid stained his hands and his hair and his shirt. He snorted, choked on the blood that filled the back of his throat, and forcefully coughed into his sleeve. Straightening, he shook his head and wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, turning in a slow circle.

The trident in his hand glowed with energy, the tines splattered with crimson. The voices hummed with satisfaction at the back of his head, their thirst temporarily satiated. His head was aching, his armor broken to pieces, and his body bleeding from multiple injuries. 

Alone on the bloodied festival grounds, Technoblade threw back his head and _laughed._

He was back, and this time, he would make no mistakes.

**Author's Note:**

> What was Technoblade's original timeline like? The egg was winning. It was not a fun timeline.  
> This is short, and yet I spent three days on it  
> I'm so tired but it's literally too cold to sleep  
> As always, feedback and constructive criticism is welcomed! Hope you enjoyed this!


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